


To Become Brand New

by pliable_cedar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Broken Draco, Draco discovers the truth, Forgiveness, Gen, Guilt, Post War, Resolution, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:31:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2566682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pliable_cedar/pseuds/pliable_cedar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after the second Wizarding War, Draco is broken and alone, being eaten away by guilt and longing to be loved again. In an old board house, reconciliation comes in the most unlikely way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Become Brand New

**Author's Note:**

> I've been dying to write something about Draco's emotional state as a result of the war. No romance here, just good ol' fashioned motherly love.

Draco pushed through the front gates easily, for no one even bothered to lock them anymore. People were probably too terrified from the tales of the things that had once happened there or the things that would happen to them if they dared trespass. He understood; he had witnessed the horrible secrets inside the walls of the Malfoy Manor with his own eyes, and that gave him more reason than any to hate the place.

He hurried up the endless front walk without a sideways glance, hoping to make it through the ordeal quickly. His old key turned in the lock as smoothly as it had the last time he used it, twelve years before. The house, however, had only become uninhabited two years ago, when his mother fell sick and was moved to St. Mungo’s to be treated. Sadly, she was never able to return because only a week ago, she died. Now, Draco was at that old house again, the house that now belonged to _him._

Honestly, he didn’t know why he found himself there after so many years. Perhaps he was looking for some sort of comfort or closure or even a sign to point him in the right direction, but once he was inside, it seemed like a silly notion. As he paced through the hallways, breathing in stale air and looking at dusty pictures of people whose faces he only saw in nightmares now, one thought occurred to him, nagging at the back of his head as it always did; He was alone.

His father was in prison. He had been since Draco was 18, and Draco knew that the man deserved it, but at 18 he was lost and confused about so many things that had happened to him. He wished his father were the type of man who would be able to guide him or even comfort him.

His mother went mad after his father was arrested, so when he was 20, he ran away from home. He ended up in Germany somehow and that was where he decided to become a healer. That was also where he met Astoria, the most beautiful woman in the world. They were married when he was 25, and soon after, when their baby boy was born, they moved back to England. For once, Draco thought he could be happy.

But then his mother was sick, and he was her only family, so he had to take care of her. He spent all his time focused on trying to save her life that he forgot that he had one of his own. So Astoria left him. She went back to Germany for a visit and never came home. He’d heard rumours that she’d met an old boyfriend while there and they ran away together.

So here he was, a week away from 32, with no one to call family but his 6 year old son, Scorpius.

~

Of all the rooms in the mansion, his mother’s was clearly the most recently used. The layer of dust was fine and spiders were yet to make a home there. Her dressing gown was thrown carelessly over the foot of the bed, as if she had only been there hours ago. He sat down on the bed for a moment, before it all became too much. Why did he have to lose everything good in his life? He grabbed the nearest thing, a pillow, and screaming, pelted it at the wall where it burst on impact. Through the settling cloud of feathers, however, he noticed a small box, nestled neatly in the sheets, previously concealed by the pillow.

Inside the box, Draco found a small stack of photographs. He smiled bitterly at the first few, which were of him in the summer between his fifth and sixth year at Hogwarts. He looked calm, almost happy in the picture, no one would have guessed that he was about to orchestrate the murder of Albus Dumbledore. He shuddered, but continued anyway. As he went on, the pictures were dated further back, and he watched himself turn from broken teenager to carefree child once again. He wished that could actually happen; if only he could go back.

As the photos got older and the images of himself became younger, there were more and more moments that he didn’t recognise. It was the last two, however, that made him look closer. One of them showed a blond baby on a toy broomstick being chased around a backyard by two ginger boys, also on toy broomsticks, and a splattering of about four other red headed children playing in the background. Draco blinked in disbelief at the photo, unsure, before examining the other.

This one left no room for doubt. There were his parents more than 30 years ago, his father smiling genuinely with an arm around Draco’s mother. And, next to them, were two people he’d never expected to see in an old family picture, let alone embracing his parents. But there they were, 30 years younger yet unmistakable, grinning wildly with flaming red hair; Arthur and Molly Weasley.

~

“Sorry I was a bit late today, bud,” Draco said to his son after he picked him up from school. Most magical families chose to school their children at home until they were old enough for Hogwarts, but there were some parents who couldn’t, for various reasons, so eventually the Ministry opened its very own primary school. It was practically identical to muggle primary school and there were no magical classes at all, but it was a lifesaver to people like Draco, who barely had free time to even eat.

“S’okay, daddy,” Scorpius replied, not even looking up from the toy in his hands. Draco scooped him up and rested him against his hip, before poking him in the side and watching him dissolve into giggles.

“There’s something I have to go do now, though, so we won’t be home until later, okay?” As soon as he said it, Scorpius’ eyes lit up. The little boy loved to be anywhere but home. Draco chuckled, “Alright, well here we go.” He gripped his son a little tighter and planted a quick kiss to his head before apparating.

For a moment, Draco wondered what he was doing there, of all places. He looked at the leaning board house he once thought was disgusting, ugly and utterly beneath him, but now all he got from it was a sense of impending doom. This was a mistake, and he was just about ready to flee when his son spoke up.

“Uhh, I feel dizzy!” Scorpius cried, swinging his head back and making his body limp, pretending to be sick but laughing hysterically.

“You’re the worst liar,” Draco replied, but joined in laughing when Scorpius continued swinging wildly and the boy’s laughter began to sound like shrieks.

“What in the world is going on out there!? You sound like a group of dying bansh- Oh,” Molly Weasley emerged from the house looking flustered, roughly wiping her hands on her apron. She seemed just about ready to chew out whatever troublemaker had decided to bother her, but when she noticed them, all three of them froze. She looked at him as though he had grown an extra head. “Oh, hello...uh, Draco...” She stammered out, trying to collect herself from her shock.

Draco glanced at Scorpius before he found words to say. “Hello, Mrs. Weasley. I know this is unexpected, but I need to speak with you about something,” He managed to force out, sounding overly polite and almost rigid.

She was clearly still in disbelief, but she gave him a small, genuine smile. “Unexpected, indeed. Why don’t you come inside, dear?” He hesitantly followed her through the door into the kitchen. There were pots sizzling and knives chopping up vegetables and dishes scrubbing themselves so animatedly, that it was hard to believe that they were just household objects. The evening sun shone through the windows and warmed up the room, and Draco had to admit it was much cozier on the inside than he expected. Molly rushed to check her pots and Draco noticed Hermione sitting at the wooden table, her nose in a book. He smiled, because at least one thing hadn’t changed. “Have a seat, Draco, I’ll be with you a minute,” Molly said, without looking up.

Hermione’s head shot up at the sound of his name. “Hello, Hermione,” Draco said pleasantly as he sat in a chair at the opposite end of the table, his son in his lap.

“Malfoy? What are you doing here?” She replied, more curiously than resentfully. However, before he could reply, a little girl burst into the room, headed straight for Draco.

“Cory! Cory!” she squealed, pointing at Scorpius. “Cory’s here!”

“Rosie, don’t point, it’s rude. Would you calm down a bit?” Hermione said to the little girl with wildly curly, red hair almost as fiery as her personality.

“Sorry, mum. But I was looking through the window and I saw them come in, I was so so so excited!” She responded, her mood not being dampened a bit. Scorpius crawled out of Draco’s lap and ran over to Rose.

Draco smiled but had to ask one thing, “Why do you call him Cory?”

Rose looked thoughtful for a moment or two before rattling off, “Well, his real name is much too long to say all the time, so I wanted to shorten it. Just like everyone calls me Rosie instead of Rose. A nickyname!”

“A nickname, love,” Hermione interjected, obviously listening as intently as Draco was.

“Right,” She nodded at her mum and continued, “I thought of Scory first but I didn’t like how that sounds so I just took off the ‘s’ and it was Cory! Everyone at school liked it. I asked him and he says he likes it.” She turned to Scorpius who nodded his head vigorously and looked more pleased with himself than Draco had seen him before.

He watched as the two forgot everyone in the room and began to play like best buddies, which they undoubtedly were. He was a little surprised that there was a Weasley at the public school, but then he remembered that Hermione was a single mother now.

11 months ago, Draco heard than Ron, who was an auror, was killed trying to capture the death eater, Dolohov. It was tragic and untimely and Draco always wished he could reach out to the family in their grieving but it was only ever a thought at the back of his head. Yet, here he was sitting in the Weasley’s kitchen as if they had never been enemies on the battlefield, the opportunity he’d wanted was right in front of him. But why would they want comfort from a man who caused so much pain for them and everyone they cared about all those years ago? No, there was no point.

“So, what are you doing here Malfoy?” Hermione’s curiosity broke through Draco’s thoughts. He glanced up at her, a deer caught in the headlights.

“Um...well...” He hesitated.

“Yes dear, what is it that brings you here so suddenly?” Mrs Weasley chimed in, turning away from the cooking to look at him. “Not that you’re unwelcome, but it’s no secret that this is unusual.”

Draco glanced between Hermione and Mrs Weasley and swallowed hard, gathering up his courage. He focused his attention onto Mrs Weasley and handed her an envelope holding the two photos. “My mother passed away just this week; I found these among her things,” he stated simply. He nodded when he heard Hermione offer condolences, but his eyes were fixed on the older woman. Her eyes glazed over and she looked sadly at him with eyes that swam with untold secrets. She remained silent as she opened the envelope but her eyes widened with recognition the moment she laid eyes on them.

Then, her demeanour changed completely. She hurriedly pushed the photos into the envelope and stuck them into the pocket of her apron, rushing distractedly past everyone, grabbing her coat and putting it on. “Hermione, dear, Draco and I are going outside to talk for a bit. We won’t be long, just make sure nothing burns, will you?” she said on her way to the door, willing Draco to follow with her eyes. Hermione had already turned her attention back to her book.

“Sure, and I’ll keep an eye Scorpius for you,” She looked up at him and smiled and Scorpius gave a little wave before Draco left after Molly.

She was standing outside the door, waiting. “We have a lot to talk about; let’s take a walk.”

~

The pair walked side by side in silence for a moment, and Draco pulled his coat closer in the chilly evening air. Mrs Weasley glanced at him before speaking, “I’m not sure where to start.”

He sighed, “The beginning, perhaps?”

She nodded. “Well, years ago, long before Tom Riddle was Voldemort, before death eaters and any wizard wars, your parents and Arthur and I, we were friends,” she began.

“Friends?” Draco interjected, confused and unbelieving.

“Best friends,” she confirmed. “Your mother and I were very close, though I can’t quite remember how we met exactly. She was a few years beneath me at Hogwart’s, a completely different house...” She paused to think, “I may have been in my fourth year. Of course, when she met your father and when Arthur and I got together, we sort of became a foursome.” She smiled, lost in a memory, and that made Draco want to smile too. “We had the grandest times. One time at Hogwart’s we even snuck out at night! Oh, you should’ve seen us then!” She let out a small laugh. “And even when we left, we were still very close. They stood beside us when we got married, and we did the same at their wedding. We could never ask for better friends.”

“If that’s true, then what happened?” Draco dared to ask.

Molly stopped for a moment and looked at him, searching his face, but then she continued walking, looking into the distance and recounting. “A while after Percy was born, we started seeing a lot less of Lucius. Narcissa was still here often and she would tell us that Lucius was busy with a new job. He popped in every now and then, but as time went by he became more and more scarce. All this time, the first war was brewing, but there was no way to know that your father was involved in any way.”Draco huffed, knowing all too well what his father had been doing.

 As they reached the edge of the lake, they stopped under the willow and Molly faced him. She continued, “By the time the war was full blown, we stopped seeing both of them at all, and Arthur and I had joined the fight, forming part of the Order of the Phoenix. We were busy planning and strategising, but we didn’t stop thinking about them for a minute. I had heard from your mother through letters and I knew she was pregnant, and so was I, but there was nothing I could do but worry and hope.” She sighed. “But of course, when things seemed at their worst, when everyone fighting against Voldemort was just about spent and ready to give up, it ended. The war was over, finished by a little baby boy.” Draco could see her fondness for Harry showing in that moment, but he wasn’t satisfied yet.

“Is that it? That doesn’t make sense, because in the second photo I was there...with...” he trailed off, but she picked up.

“No, there’s more. You’re right, you were here as a baby, quite a few times. In the time of recovery after the war, your mother came around a few times, she wanted you to meet our family so badly. Of course, you fit in perfectly and we all loved you as if you had red hair.” She smiled at him lovingly and he wished for someone to love him like that again. The cavity in his chest hurt, although he was used to its emptiness by now. But a sadness returned to Molly’s demeanour, “But then, maybe a year after the war ended, your father showed up again; oh, he was angry, I’d never seen such a crazy look in his eyes before. He told me and Arthur to leave his family alone and never speak to them again. He threatened horrible things on us if we did, so out of fear, we agreed. We told our older children to never speak of it, and the youngest ones weren’t old enough to remember you anyway.” Tears formed in her eyes and she stepped forward, placing her hand on Draco’s cheek. “We knew he’d changed because of Voldemort’s influence, but it broke us. It hurt so much to lose the friends we’d grown to love like our own blood, and the little boy who would have grown up to be so loved and spoiled by this entire family.”

Draco felt his throat tighten, but he asked, “You knew they were working for Voldemort the whole time? How could you love them after all the pain they’d caused you?”

She smiled bitterly and shook her head, “My love for them will always be greater than any pain I have ever suffered at their hands. That will never change.”

Draco rested his back against the trunk of the tree, sinking to the ground as the tears came. For the first time since he was a teenager, he coughed and spluttered and sobbed, the emptiness he felt quickly being replaced by pain so overwhelming he could hardly breathe. He felt Molly kneel next to him, rubbing his shoulder soothingly, but nothing could stop the onslaught of emotion now it had started. All he ever wanted was to be loved like that, but it had been robbed from him. The chance he’d had to be happy and surrounded by people who cared for him like the Weasleys did for each other had been taken away by Voldemort, by the death eaters, by his parents, by...

By himself. He couldn’t sit by and blame everyone else when he knew that he deserved exactly what he had been dealt. He had caused pain and he had hurt people and it only made sense that he was paying for that now. “I am so sorry,” he managed to choke out. “I am so sorry for everything they’ve done, everything I’ve done. I wish I could fix it, and change things but I can’t and I’m sorry. I’ve ruined so many people’s lives and so many people hate me, and I know I deserve this, but I wish things were different. I wish...” _I wish someone would love me anyway._ He took a deep breath and his tears slowed, but his body was shaking. Mrs. Weasley helped him to stand and then pulled him into a hug.

“Oh Draco, I forgive you,” she said simply. “I forgave you long ago, for everything.”

He pulled away and looked at her, confused but grateful, “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She touched his cheeks again before she smiled and began to walk back toward the house, and Draco fell into step with her easily.

~

When they were almost there, Scorpius burst through the doorway and pelted himself towards his father. “Daddy! Daddy! There you are!” When he got close enough, Draco grabbed him up and hugged him tight. “I was wondering when you would come back,” the boy cocked his head to the side and looked at his father.

Draco managed a smile, “Well, here I am. Sorry for making you worry.”

Then, Scorpius did something that made Draco’s heart swell and break. He kissed him on the cheek and said, “S’okay, daddy, I love you.” Draco looked at his son, tears threatening to fall again. The only thing he had was the only thing he ever wanted and he’d almost forgotten that the best boy in the entire world loved him.

The moment was interrupted by the sounds of people arriving at the Burrow, voices growing louder as they came closer. Draco turned to see Harry come through the door, closely tailed by his own sons. Harry smiled and approached them, absolutely unperturbed by Draco’s presence. “Malfoy! So nice to see you again! How’ve you been?”

Before Draco could respond Molly spoke up, “Come on, boys, it’s getting dark! Hurry on inside and get washed up for dinner, you can continue your catching up afterwards.” Harry immediately complied, knowing not to argue, but Draco hesitated. “You _are_ staying for dinner, aren’t you, Draco dear?”

He glanced at Scorpius who was nodding feverishly and he grinned, “Of course.” Molly smiled and went inside, and once again Draco followed her, into the only place he’d ever been that could be considered a _home._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you like this! There may be a part 2 coming...


End file.
